Trust
by bardicfaerie
Summary: Morgan's past comes back to haunt him


The first time he hit me, I was so shocked the pain didn't even register. I just stared at him in silence. The follow-up punch in the ribs drove the breath from my body and nearly sent me to my knees. As I struggled to draw air into my lungs, his foot caught my chin, nearly dislocating my jaw. When he spoke it was in a cold, flat voice that managed to carry as much weight behind it as that of his fists.

"The next time you don't tell me where you are and don't come when I tell you, you'll think this is a love tap."

He turned and left the room and I stayed on the cold floor, struggling with the pain, my tortured breath, and a brain that was slowly kicking back into gear.

I had met Gene three months ago; I had just started at the construction site at which he was foreman. He gave me this slow once over - from my steel-toed booted feet to the top of my closely shorn head, lingering over various parts of my anatomy. He wasn't too obvious of his appreciation of me, certainly no one else noticed the look, but I've had a lot of people look at me and I recognized it. What I missed was the domineering gleam in his eye.

It didn't take him long to put me through my paces, both on and off the site. The work was fine. I got along with everyoone and did my job well. I observed the others and asked questions if they were working on an area I was familiar with. I enjoyed working with my hands.

His hands I wasn't as sure about. Oh, he definitely knew what he was doing to my body. Problem was, I was still a little anal (forgive the pun) because of Carl.

Gene was a gentle lover, when he wanted to be, definitely liked to take control, set the pace. However, he did want me turned on. I soon found myself craving his hands and mouth as much or more than I had craved my female lovers throughout college. Carl had definitely still been too fresh in my mind for any other type of relationship. I was trying to establish myself (convince myself?) I was a red-blooded hetersexual male. The reactions I had to Carl made me embarassed to admit my attraction to men. Once out of university I continued to tom-cat around. Then this construction job, and Gene.

After 18 months of back breaking labour and various personal injuries inflicted on me, I was very glad to be able to watch the Chicago branch of the FBI swoop in and arrest Gene and the owner of the construction company as part of a drug smuggling operation. My bosses at the FBI seemed pretty impressed with my part in the whole sting operation, especially my observations of several of the major players. They suggested I head back to Quantico and take the profiling courses that put me where I am today.

It was a lazy day at the BAU, relatively speaking. The team was busy catching up on various and sundry paperwork. Not too busy, of course - there was the usual bursts of chatter and laughter, usually when one of us rose to stretch legs and back, grab a coffee or something from the snack machine.

The only two people we really didn't see much of were Hotch and Rossi - buried away in their separate offices. Even Garcia would wander through the bullpen every once in a while.

At one such foray into the muted hustle and bustle of the room, she sat down in the empty chair beside me. Prentiss was engrossed in her files, or so it appeared, and Reid had his nose nearly touching the surface of his desk doing something I couldn't see.

"So?" Garcia's voice held that pleading, questioning note to it that it had when she's determined to weasel information out of someone and knows it would be just a matter of time before they caved in.

I suppressed a sigh, glanced over at her, and grinned. "So?" I echoed.

"Are you going to tell me if he asked you out?" Garcia's voice sharpened.

"No." The grin on my face broadened as she scowled at me.

"No you're not going to tell, or no he didn't ask you out?"

"No I'm not going to tell you."

"Derek!" She swatted my arm.

I just raised my eyebrow at her and turned back to my paperwork.

I don't know what she would have said next, because Hotch's voice called out from above us, summoning us once more into the lion's den.

I'm not sure what it was really that had us end up in bed together. For my part, I wanted to help heal the pain in his eyes after Foyet had nearly destroyed him. At first, I'd show up at his place for a drink, sometimes catching Rossi there as well. Then, one night, he showed up at my place, just as I was heading to bed. I think I surprised him when I opened the door half dressed.

It took him a few moments to realize that I had moved back to allow him in, and to grab Clooney as he tried to jump up. After the dog was sorted out and Hotch was sitting on my couch, it became obvious he was there for something.

I had turned to go into the kitchen to grab a couple of beers when he surprised me by wrapping his arms around me. He must have taken my surprise as rejection, because he quickly started pulling back and trying to apologize. I was having none of that, however, and pulled him back against me, my arms just sliding around his waist as if they belonged there. It took a bit of patience, but I finally felt Hotch relax against me. Then his lips were cool against my shoulder, and his hand was slowly caressing my arm.

I stayed relaxed, letting him figure out what he was doing and wanted to do. That was, until he started sucking my earlobe.

It was very early in the morning when I eased myself out of bed and padded downstairs to let Clooney out. It was a chilly morning and by the time I slid back under the covers my feet were cold enough to cause a reaction from my - until then - sleeping bed partner.

I wasn't sure where this was heading - a momentary need for physical release, or the start of something else, but I was content to let him set the pace. He was, after all, the one who was trying to rebuild his life.

We managed to keep it out of the office for the most part. One of the bad things about working with a bunch of people trained to see the difference in a person's mood or body language - no matter how discreet you are, something changes. The team didn't say anything, but little gestures showed that they knew, not necessarily that they understood. After all, Hotch had been married to his childhood sweetheart, and I liked to make the rounds of the ladies. Undercover work sometimes just means misdirection, something I knew quite well.

On one of our early days in our new relationship, Hotch had told me that this wasn't a sudden change in his sexual leanings, just something he had chosen not to indulge in - he, like me, was attracted to both sexes and had been quite happy and fulfilled with Haley. That didn't mean he hadn't been attracted to me, but contrary to popular female opinion, men can see someone as attractive and not drag the person into bed.

Things were still pretty new between Hotch and I when Gene showed up one day.

I ran into him, of all places, at the grocery store. I had stopped to grab some dog food before Clooney decided that he was going to start snacking on me, and he, Gene, was there at the cashier's as I approached.

It was a classic double-take on both our parts. His was a slow once over - again starting at my feet and rising to blatently appreciate my groin before finally looking me in the eye. This inspection of his had given me the time to school my face into FBI inscrutibility, so my shock and dismay were hidden as we greeted each other.

He very quickly informed me that he was still in the construction business. I didn't bother asking about his prison term or any thing of that nature, figuring I really didn't want to raise the subject. He wasn't the type to be impressed at being reminded of his shortcomings.

He made several comments about wanting to spend time with me again, which I deflected as I grabbed my purchases and walked out the door. It wasn't until I was paused at the exit of the parking lot that I realized my hands were shaking.

If Hotch was surprised at my need for gentleness and reassurance that night more than our usual energetic lovemaking, he didn't ask. He was good that way, knowing I'd eventually tell him. Before I could tell him we got called out to California, and then we were all shocked over the departure of JJ.

Hotch was at home with Jack the night Gene knocked on my door. Too caught up in the events of the past few weeks, I had almost forgotten he was in town, but when he pushed his way into the kitchen, slamming the door on Clooney, who had jumped at the chance to run out of the house, that memory came back. This time I didn't need to hid behind a character created to fit in and gather information.

He didn't even give me a chance to react, didn't say hello, just slammed me up against the wall, his hands around my throat. Vaguely, I could hear the phone ringing and, louder, Clooney barking outside the door.

When I showed up the next day, I was in a suit and tie, so no one noticed the bruises. If they wondered about me walking stiffly, I could say it was due to a workout. I wasn't trying to make excuses for Gene, or for what he did. I wasn't going to let him get away with abusing me. I wasn't going to stand for it. I had been undercover the last time. I had to believe he knew, now, that I was in the FBI. If he'd been watching me, he knew where I worked.

No, the reason I didn't want anyone to know about it - besides the obvious embarrassment of an alpha male caught in this situation, was due to not knowing how to proceed. My first instinct had been to kill him. I didn't know where he lived, and, more importantly, I liked my job and my relationship with Hotch.

There was no question about telling Hotch. He'd definitely notice and question me. And, I wasn't worried about his reaction, although having someone attack someone else he cared about was going to be a tough blow.

What was better? Going around him to Rossi and dealing with Gene that way, and having Hotch believe I didn't trust him; or telling him and and being worried about how he'd react to that. He tended to withdraw in these sort of situations. I still have problems with him being open, in words anyway, he says so much in bed. I think that's the only way he allows himself to be expressive.

So, I hesitated going into the bullpen, gearing up for the conversation and hoping that we didn't have a case right away. When I walked into his office he raised an eyebrow at me. "I called you last night."

I flinched, rermembering Gene and the first beating he had given me. Hotch's eyes narrowed in concern, but when I turned back to the desk after closing the door, he had straightened up in his chair, the pen that he'd been using put down on his desk.

If he was surprised when I undid the tie I was wearing and started to unbutton the top of my shirt, he managed not to show it. That didn't last when he saw the dark bruises around my neck, showing up even against my skin..

He was up and around his desk so fast I had to force myself not to jump back. Hotch definitely did not miss THAT and he stopped in front of me, his hands half raised.

I tilted my head to allow him access to my neck and I felt the coolness of his fingers against my skin. There was silence as he examined the bruises.

When he stepped back and looked at me, his face wasn't so calm. His eyes were full of worry. "What happened?"

"Someone from my past that I never expected to ever run across again." I briefly explained who Gene was, and felt Hotch's touch against my neck again. That touch meant a lot to me, more than I thought it would, conveying protection, caring; things I hadn't realized I needed right then.

I took a deep breath and told him about meeting Gene at the store and him showing up at my door last night. Told him what he did, what he said; that he threatened to hurt Hotch unless I 'allowed' him back into my life.

Hotch was shaking his head before I had finished. "We're going to see Garcia. Now."

I followed him down the hall to Garcia's office. Kevin was there, having breakfast, and Hotch politely, but very firmly, requested he leave.

It wa a matter of minutes for Garcia to pull up Gene's information. She could look up files on her system and still keep shooting me worried glances, but after the initial gasp of shock, she had not asked questions.

His prison file showed him to have had plenty of disciplinary problems, unsurprisingly. We found his address and the contact information of his parole officer.

He smiled at me when I walked up to his door, that look in his eye that said he knew, despite my job as a tough FBI agent, I was under his thumb and under his control. He was reaching for me, nearly licking his lips in anticipation, when Hotch stepped around the door, gun raised.

Of course, Gene denied all the 'allegations' against him. He smirked at Rossi in the interview room and asked him if he knew how rough I liked it. He wanted to know if Hotch was the only member of the team that I had given my 'tight black ass' to. He figured the only one I wouldn't have gone for was the skinny kid; that I needed a firm, strong hand to keep me in line. That's the way I liked it. Gotta hand it to Rossi, he didn't bat any eye, simply told Gene I wasn't his type.

Unfortunately we couldn't hold Gene. It was basically a case of my word against his and since I hadn't gone through the proper channels - no hospital visit or formal police visit to press charges, we had to let him go. We do have friends in the police force however, and we informed them of what was going on. They agreed to keep an eye on Hotch and I for a while.

Hotch and I got into a big argument when I told him to stay away from me. He wanted to know how I expected to protect myself if I didn't have someone watching my back. He didn't raise the 'trust' issue, but then again, I think I've convinced him that my trust issues were getting better. The argument ended when I asked him how he'd feel about me, or himself, if something happened to Jack and Hotch wasn't there to protect him. That took the fight out of him. I'm sure I hurt him with the comment as well, and hope that when this is all over, he'd forgive me.

Something must have shown in my eyes as we 'broke up' because suddenly his hands were around me, drawing us together. We held each other, his hands gently stroking my back before he pulled away and left.

So, survellience was put on both Hotch and I by both the police and by the FBI. One of the other reasons I wanted Hotch away was because I hoped Gene would come for me first. The team kept an eye on Hotch just in case. The place had been bugged (by me), and a team set up next door.

I spent the night pacing through my dark home. I thought, mirthlessly, of switching to stay at one of my other properties, a la Foyet, but that wasn't the purpose here. Either Gene would try to attack Hotch and we'd catch him that way, or he'd come here and we'd catch him here. It took a few days and I tried not to snap at anyone, but Gene finally showed up at my door one evening.

Of course Gene was trying to be all sweetness, courtly, wanting us to go grab a beer and pizza or something. He really didn't like it when I refused, but then he grinned and swaggered towards me. He hooked his fingers in the belt loops of my jeans to pull me closer to him, laughing.

"I knew you wouldn't be able to resist me. Knew you'd want me to fuck you. That guy you were letting fuck you, not good for you. Not passionate enough. Missed me, didn't you?"

When I pushed him away his face darkened and he grabbed my arm.

"I want nothing to do with you, Gene. If you don't get out of my house now, and leave me alone, I'll call the cops on you."

"Your word against mine. Your team mates already know you like it rough, so why would they believe it? Why would a tough guy like you go crying 'rape' when you are strong enough to fight me off? Why? Because you want it. You used to scream for it. I think I'll definitely have to teach you a lesson for having me questioned. I think when I finish here tonight, I'll go visit your boyfriend. Show him what a real man can do. Of course, you don't fuck him do you? He always fucks you. I'll make sure he gets the message that you're mine, and no one fucks what's mine. Unless I want them to."

His smirk turned to a leer. "That's an idea. You like playing with handcuffs. What about you in handcuffs, and me bringing some friends over to play with you. That could be quite exciting, don't you think?"

Every fibre of my body was screaming to hit him, but that would not get him out of my life. If I hit him first, he could charge me with assault. I pulled my arm out of his grip. "I'm not your play toy, Gene. You won't catch me a second time. Get out of my house." I started to walk away, and felt his hand on my arm again, squeezing hard, and pulling me around to face him. He shoved me back against the countertop, giving him enough room to swing at me. I felt the fist hit my body. This time I was ready for him. I blocked the next blow and started to fight back. Assault was one thing, attempted rape was another. The team next door was listening in (hopefully) and knew when I yelled out it was time to storm the place. It didn't take long before he managed to shove me through the kitchen door into the living room. I fell over the table in front of the couch and landed in a tangle of broken wood and body parts. Hitting the couch with my shoulders and neck didn't help at all. Gene reached down to grab me and I automatically snapped my legs straight.

Gene fell against me as I knocked his feet out from under him. Not what I was going for, but my aim was hampered. His body against mine really made things worse with that damn couch and we struggled. I was trying to get out from under him and he was trying to get some leverage to continue his assault. I managed to throw him off me and rolled away from the couch to try to get to my feet. Gene was on me as I rolled. Damn the man was quick. I felt my shirt tighten around my throat before the fabric started to tear, then Gene was pinning me down, his knee digging into my thigh, turning my leg numb. He let go of my shirt and slammed a fist against my jaw. I felt his hands around my waist, fumbling at my belt and button of my jeans.

"No!" I screamed into his ear, struggling both to clear my head and get out from under him. Gene reared back and punched me again. Just when I thought this was going to end really badly, the house was full of bodies and noise. Gene was pulled off my body, and I rolled to my side, trying to get to my feet. Hands on my body had me reacting until the voice registered. Rossi.

"Thought you were watching Hotch." I muttered.

"He decided you needed me more than he did." came the quiet reply.

"I'm gonna kill him. I swear! What if Gene had gone to him instead of me?" Again I was trying to get to my feet, and again Rossi pushed me back.

"You really think Gene would be interested in Hotch? He wanted you. Hotch knew that. Prentiss and Reid are there. They would have protected Hotch just fine. Jack was with Haley's sister, and they had an unmarked car outside their door. Will you relax and stay down!"

Grumbling I did as I was told, knowing that Rossi would probably just sit on me if I didn't.

Hotch met me at the hospital, as the doctors were checking me over. Just bruises. I think the doctors were a little nervous as Hotch stood over me and them as they did their exam. They protested, but he just glared at them and they backed down.

He took me back to his house that night, pushed me into the shower and washed Gene from my flesh, from my mind, and from my soul. I felt his hands trembling against my skin and braced myself against the tiles of the shower. I whispered two words to him and felt his hands stop moving, waiting. I added a third word, and Hotch complied..


End file.
